


Tend

by helloearthlings



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: During Canon, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers - King Falls Chronicles Part 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: Ben had been so startled the first time this happened, running in and finding Sammy sobbing and crying out like there was a monster under the bed, but Ben had quickly adapted to this new feature of their friendship. He could be the big brother for a change. He’d shaken Sammy awake, wrapped his arms around him and fell back asleep curled up next to him to make sure Sammy slept through the night.Sammy told him again and again, with a lack of eye contact and pink cheeks, that it really wasn’t necessary, that he could take care of himself. To which Ben always replied that Sammy had done enough taking care of himself in the last three years and it was someone else’s turn now.





	Tend

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a huge writing block recently but God the King Falls Chronicles ep was truly incredible and I loved it so much. Jaaaaaaack. Also overnight oats. I cried multiple times. Anyway, here's This because I'm sad and I'm making everyone be sad with me. Thaks for reading!!

Ben wakes up to screaming. 

Ben isn’t a deep sleeper, and is liable to wake up to just about anything. He used to find it annoying when he’d jolt awake to the sound of rain on his window or his neighbor slamming a door, cursing quietly to himself as he woke.

That’s changed, though. Now Ben needs to wake up to the slightest noise. 

A bloodcurdling scream isn’t very subtle, and Ben’s awake in an instant.

He disentangles himself from his sheets, an odd combination of lethargic and hurried. He used to spring up and run when Sammy cried out, but the screaming has become such a regular part of his nightly routine that it doesn’t scare him half as bad as it did when Sammy first moved in.

Ben’s so glad Sammy’s here, that Sammy’s not stuck alone and having to jolt himself out of these night terrors. Ben tells Sammy that at least fourteen times a day, with wide eyes and usually long hugs accompanying his heartfelt sentiments, but Sammy never makes eye contact with Ben when he tries to say things like that.

Ben flicks on the light switch on his way into the hallway, pausing in the doorway of Sammy’s room, thinking about whether to turn the light switch on there as well. Sammy doesn’t like the dark, but can’t sleep with the light on. He decides just to leave the door open so Sammy can see the light in the hall.

The hall light half-illuminates where Sammy’s curled up in a ball on the bed, sobbing and shaking. When he cries out loudly again, it’s deep and guttural and heartbreaking. Ben rushes through the open door.

“Hey, hey,” Ben says, fluttering his hands over Sammy but not touching him yet. Ben has a routine - if he can wake Sammy up just by talking to him, then it’s not a bad night. Sammy will just shudder himself awake and apologize to Ben with a quivering lip and Ben will hug him and offer to sit up and talk and Sammy will likely say no, and they’ll watch TV instead.

That doesn’t happen. Sammy’s face twists up like he’s in pain, and he whimpers like someone’s hurting him. 

Ben starts to shake his shoulder, very gently, trying not to cry himself. It’s been months since Sammy moved in, and it’s still horrible to see Sammy like this, so vulnerable and out of control and hurting in ways Ben can’t even imagine. 

_ Watch him,  _ Walt’s voice plays in the back of Ben’s head, but he has to drown it out, he can’t think about that or Ben will turn into a crying wreck, too. 

“Sammy, wake up, it’s just a dream, it’s just -” Ben whispers as Sammy’s limbs shake and seize up when Ben touches him. His hair’s a wild mess, it usually is nowadays, and Ben tries to smooth it back away from his face but Sammy twists away from him with another cry.

“ _ The one _ ,” Sammy whispers, and Ben’s heart sinks. He knows it’s going to be a long night when Sammy starts saying  _ the one, the one, the one  _ over and over again like a scratched record with only one playable track.

“Sammy, please wake up, wake up, you’re safe, I’m here, I love you…” 

It doesn’t work; Sammy’s throat must be starched and dry as he shrieks, writhing away from Ben’s outstretched hands. Ben finds his own lip quivering. It shouldn’t take this long just to wake him up. 

Ben had been so startled the first time this happened, running in and finding Sammy sobbing and crying out like there was a monster under the bed, but Ben had quickly adapted to this new feature of their friendship. He could be the big brother for a change. He’d shaken Sammy awake, wrapped his arms around him and fell back asleep curled up next to him to make sure Sammy slept through the night. 

Sammy told him again and again, with a lack of eye contact and pink cheeks, that it really wasn’t necessary, that he could take care of himself. To which Ben always replied that Sammy had done enough taking care of himself in the last three years and it was someone else’s turn now.

_ Don’t,  _ Ben had said the first time he hooked his arms around Sammy’s waist and buried his head in Sammy’s long hair. Sammy had turned around presumably to tell him he could go, but Ben said  _ c’mon, I don’t ever get to be the big spoon with Emily. Give me a chance. _

Sammy said something teasing, his smile a little watery. He’d let Ben stay, he’d kept letting Ben stay, not that Ben was ever going to take no for an answer.

Even when Emily was over, Ben would leave her sleeping in his bed and slip into Sammy’s room to wake him up, and once Sammy was in his right mind, he’d roll his eyes and say  _ dude, you have a girlfriend.  _

Ben would laugh and say  _ yeah, and? She’s not going anywhere.  _

Sometimes if Emily woke up from the noise as well she would follow Ben into Sammy’s room, hang in the back corner until Sammy was awake and then come sit up with him, stroking his hair and kissing his cheek and telling him she loved him over and over. Most of the time, she’d stay in bed. She knew Sammy could only handle so much affection at once. 

Ben knew he was the only person Sammy would let take care of him like this, even if it was reluctantly and with a large dose of shame. 

Tonight though, nothing was working. Ben wished Emily was here, maybe she’d have another idea, but tonight he’s on his own and Sammy won’t stop screaming.

“It’s dark, it’s dark, it’s  _ cold _ …” Sammy interrupts his litany of  _ theonetheonetheonetheone  _ with a wimper, his entire body shuddering. That’s all it takes for Ben to decide  _ fuck it  _ and crawl into bed with him, locking his arms around Sammy’s chest and holding him tightly. 

He’ll usually wait until Sammy’s awake to make sure he’s okay first before Ben gets sappy, but he doesn’t know what else to do right now.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ben whispers in Sammy’s ear, and he thinks he feels Sammy’s arms relax, just a little. At least he’s not shaking anymore. “You’re alright, I’ve got you.”

Ben holds Sammy as tight as he can. He hopes he’s not cutting off any circulation, but tonight was one of the worst nights since the first few times back in May, and Ben’s holding on more for his own comfort than anything. Finally, the screaming stops, petering out into choked little sobs 

“Thank God,” Ben sighs, resting his forehead on the back of Sammy’s neck, letting his own tension drain away. “Thank God you’re awake, I was so worried.”

Sammy keeps crying, hiccuping through a steady stream of tears, and Ben realizes that maybe Sammy’s not awake yet, that he’s just crying his way through sleep instead of screaming.

Ben releases his death grip, and turns Sammy’s shoulder toward him. Sammy’s limp and the shaking’s started again, but his eyes are open when Ben half-sits to get a better look at him. They’re glazed over, and Ben isn’t sure how much he’s actually seeing, but he’s not asleep. At least not fully. 

“Sammy?” Ben whispers, and Sammy’s lower lip trembles. He’s not meeting Ben’s eye; he looks a million miles away. “Buddy, are you - are you here with me?”

_ Watch him,  _ Walt says, and Ben is suddenly all too aware of the dark room, the light outside, the potential to cast shadows.

“It’s dark,” Sammy whispers, eyes out of focus and pointed toward the ceiling. “So dark and cold.”

His eyes slide from the ceiling to Ben’s general direction, but Ben can tell from their glazed quality that Sammy isn’t seeing anything right now. 

“I know, I know,” Ben whispers, mind racing with half-formed plans to try and snap Sammy out of whatever this is, but he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to make this worse. He figures he’ll try talking to Sammy, see if he gets a response, if Sammy can hear anything he’s saying. Or if he’s just lost in his own mind right now and Ben’s voice is little more than an echo. “Should I go get more blankets?”

Sammy makes a terrified noise in the back of his throat and lurches suddenly at Ben. Before Ben can blink, Sammy’s head is buried in Ben’s chest and he’s crying again, hands fisting in Ben’s t-shirt as he clings on like Ben’s his lifeline.

Ben blinks back a copule tears of his own as he wraps his arms back around his best friend. He doesn’t know how much Sammy’s processing right now, but at least this is something. 

“Is it still dark? Still cold?” Ben tries after a minute of Sammy sniffling. “Please, if you can hear me right now, you’ve gotta talk to me. I’m so worried, Sammy. It hasn’t been this bad since May. Please just try to hear me.”

The only sign that shows any understanding on Sammy’s part is his grip getting tighter around Ben’s torso, so Ben settles for rubbing a circle on Sammy’s back, trying to get him to calm down at least enough to stop crying.

“I’m scared,” Sammy whispers into Ben’s chest, sounding so utterly broken. It’s a violent reminder of what he’d been like the night that it happened, sobbing and out of his mind with grief. “God, I’m so scared, Jack.”

Ben thinks his heart stops beating. He doesn’t feel anything for half a second, and then a rush of pain waves throughout his entire body and Ben chokes back a sob of his own. 

No wonder Sammy’s barriers seem lowered tonight. He doesn’t have any idea where he is. When he is. Fuck. Ben doesn’t know what’s going in on Sammy’s head right now, doesn’t know how far gone he is, doesn’t know how to fix this or make this right. 

Ben opens his mouth shakily, planning on saying  _ no, no, it’s me, it’s Ben. Remember? Ben. _

He doesn’t. He can’t. The words won’t come. Sammy’s clinging on for dear life and Ben can’t break him out of this, he can’t. He doesn’t know what would be better for Sammy, but Ben can’t be the person who puts him through losing Jack in an instant like that. It would hurt too much. It hurts too much already.

“I know,” Ben whispers instead, moving his head to press against the back of Sammy’s neck. The world seems to slow down around him. “I know. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Sammy makes a noise that Ben thinks, hopes, is one of comfort. 

Ben’s seen a picture of Jack. He knows that they look nothing alike, that Sammy must be completely out of it if he can mistake Ben’s slight frame and small hands for Jack’s. Though he also knows that the similarities between himself and Jack run far deeper than what they look like, and that if someone’s in Sammy’s bed holding him and telling him he loves him, well - it makes sense that Sammy’s mind would connect that to Jack.

“ _ The one _ ,” Sammy mutters into Ben’s chest, and Ben can’t breathe now. “ _ Theonetheonetheone.  _ It’s dark here. Dark and cold. So cold. Jack…”

God, Ben always wishes Jack were here, but never more so than right now. He would know what to do. Ben’s a shoddy replacement. He knows Sammy would lecture at Ben for even thinking that he does nothing more than fill the space that Jack left, but Ben knows that already. Tonight, though, the regular rules don’t apply. Ben needs to be a replacement, he needs to be Jack just for a few seconds, just to get Sammy back to sleep. 

“Shh,” Ben hugs Sammy to him, and after hesitating for a second, dips his head down to kiss the top of Sammy’s head. “I love you. Go to sleep, okay? I’ll -”

Ben swallows. He wishes he could say  _ I’ll be here when you wake up _ , but he can’t lie like that. Jack won’t be here when Sammy wakes up in the morning. 

“I love you,” Ben says again, because it’s something that’s true. Ben loves Sammy; Jack loves Sammy. It’s true, it’s real, Ben hopes it’s enough. “Please, just go to sleep. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Sammy shudders one last time. Ben can feel it when his body finally relaxes, when the sobs stop punctuating the air around them and Sammy slips back into sleep. 

Ben knows he won’t be sleeping anymore tonight. He settles for closing his eyes and listening to Sammy’s breaths even out. 

Ben knows it’s stupid to miss someone you’ve never met. He misses Jack, though. He misses Jack like there’s a piece of him that went missing the first time Sammy spilled out the broken words and said Jack’s name out loud.

Ben holds Sammy close, and promises silently to - to someone, to Sammy, to King Falls,  _ to Jack  _ more than anything - that he’ll keep Sammy safe until Jack’s here. 

_ Watch him,  _ Walt’s voice says again in Ben’s ear and chills shoot down Ben’s spine.

It’s alright, Ben rationalizes to himself, just like he does to Sammy over and over again. It’s alright, it’s going to be okay, just go to sleep. Just go to sleep. 

Ben drifts off, not knowing whether he believes himself or not. 


End file.
